


One-Handed Driving

by writingonpostcards



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-10-05 00:09:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10293005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingonpostcards/pseuds/writingonpostcards
Summary: Five times Lydia drove one handed, and one time she didn’t drive at all





	

**One**

Lydia’s car window won’t go up. She turns her car on and off and tries the button again. Nothing. She’d only rolled it down to get a spider out and now it won’t go up.

Lydia sighs and puts the car into drive anyway. At least she can park it in the garage at home, so security isn’t going to be an issue.

What _is_ going to be an issue is the rain.

When she exits the company carpark it’s falling steadily from the sky. Lydia idles in the driveway. She’s got a twenty-minute drive home and no way of sealing her window. She could leave the car here overnight and call for a taxi or get the bus; she really doesn’t want her leather seats getting wet and mouldy.

As she’s debating her choices, the rain eases somewhat, and Lydia decides to brave it. She has an umbrella in her bag and in a move fuelled possibly by her hunger and sore feet, gets it out, sticks her arm through the driver’s side window and opens the umbrella. One hand for the umbrella, one hand for the wheel. Indicating might be an issue but she’ll take the back way home to avoid major roads.

Her arm starts hurting after the first few minutes but she powers through, thinking of what the water damage will do to her seats if she doesn’t. Besides, this way she can skip arm day at the gym.

Lydia’s vision is impaired by her solid black umbrella, but she drives slow, a few clicks below the speed limit, and makes sure to check her rear-view constantly. She notices the patrol car behind her but doesn’t think much of it until its lights start flashing and it indicates for her to pull over. She does so, not having to bother to roll down her window seeing as it’s already stuck that way. Instead, she just raises the umbrella so she can see out, and waits as the deputy gets out of the patrol car with his own much larger, much sturdier umbrella.

“Evening, ma’am.”

“Evening.”

The deputy isn’t anyone Lydia’s familiar with. Unsurprising, seeing as she only knows one person who works at the station and she’s currently on leave.

“May I see your license, please.”

Lydia hands it to him and waits while he checks it over.

“Are you aware that driving one handed is illegal?” He hands back her license.

“Yes, I am aware,” Lydia replies, trying not to show how near the end of her tether she is right now, arm aching and cold from holding the umbrella.

“Do you normally choose to break that law?” He asks, with some sarcasm that is not helping Lydia’s attitude.

“No, deputy, but my window won’t roll up and my seats are leather.” Lydia smiles with bite, hoping he’ll just give her a ticket so she can get herself home.

What she doesn’t expect is for the deputy to do the opposite. Which is, to not give her a ticket.

“Did you turn your car off and on again?”

“Several times,” Lydia says, with a bit of desperation creeping into her voice.

“Okay,” the deputy says, then looks over to his car. He stares for a bit, during which Lydia can’t help but admire his profile – strong cheekbones, straight nose. He turns back to her and leans down so they’re closer to the same level, taking away some of his authority. “I’ve got plastic wrap and some duct-tape in my trunk. Would you like me to cover the window?”

“Oh.” Lydia was honestly expecting the ticket. “That would be really great, actually. Thank you, deputy.”

“No worries. I’m afraid I’m going to rope you into to helping me though,” he says with a polite smile.

“That’s fine, it is my car.” Lydia turns off the engine and gets out, but is then stuck. She’s still using her umbrella to shield her car, but it’s left her standing in the rain.

“Here.” The deputy hands her his umbrella.

“Swap instead?” Lydia offers.

“Sure.” The deputy waits until Lydia takes his umbrella, the handle warm from his hand, and then takes her much smaller umbrella and jogs over to his car. He turns the flashing lights off while he’s there, which drains some pressure from the situation. The umbrella looks comically small as the deputy is noticeably taller and broader than Lydia.

He comes back with the sheeting, and a fat roll of duct tape. The shoulders of his uniform are slightly rain-speckled, and the bottom of his pants are beginning to cling around his calves. He collapses Lydia’s umbrella and then Lydia holds the larger one over them both as he cuts a length of the sheeting using a pocket knife, then double folds it and starts taping it on the outside of her car.

“Let me know if the paint comes off with this later and I’ll see what I can do about getting your paint fixed.”

Lydia is touched by his thoughtfulness. It’s clear that she’s found one of the deputies who’s chosen the career out of a pure heart and not a hard-on for power.

“I’ll be alright. I probably need to get the window checked by a mechanic anyway.”

The deputy finishes up, then takes his umbrella back from Lydia. They share it for a moment.

“I’ll let you off with a warning this time, but Miss Martin?” He waits to make sure she’s paying attention.

“Yes?” She cranes her neck upwards so she can look into his eyes more comfortably.

“Next time, keep both hands on the wheel.”

“Alright,” Lydia agrees easily.

The deputy nods and smiles at her. He opens her passenger door, leaning closer to her to do so. He’s warm and smells like rain and coffee. He holds the umbrella over her as she gets in, then shuts the door, raps his knuckles on the roof, and heads back to his own car.

Lydia watches him drive away, mood unexpectedly lifted by his kindness. She resolves to ask her friend about him when she’s back from leave.

 

**Two**

Lydia’s driving home from a half day at work, taking the afternoon off to meet with Allison, who she hasn’t seen since she returned from her honeymoon a week ago.

Lydia’s phone rings while she passes the corner of Dermont and Heather, and when she goes to accept the call via her Bluetooth, remembers she’s had it disabled for days.

“Crap,” Lydia looks ahead for a space to pull over, but can’t see any.

Ordinarily she’d let the phone ring out, but it’s probably someone from work, and she did tell her staff she’d stay on call. She pulls over to the side lane, slowing down so others can pass her, and reaches blindly in her bag. The ringing stops before she finds her phone.

“Well, I hope that wasn’t urgent.”

The phone starts up again. This time Lydia turns the corner into a side-street, but there’s no-parking signs along the roadside so she reaches into her bag again, keeping her eyes on the road, this time managing to find her phone and answer it.

“Hello?”

“Lyds. Hey! How are you going?”

Lydia smiles as Allison’s enthusiasm comes through her phone. “Allison. Hello. I’m very well. Looking forward to lunch.”

Lydia turns without indicating into another unknown side-street. Thankfully, there are cars parked along this one, so she scans the street for a spot.

“I know, me too. I’ve missed you.”

Lydia smiles and laughs. “It was only a month. But I get you. I—” Police sirens start up behind Lydia. “Hang on a sec, Al.”

Lydia checks the rear-view mirror and sure enough, flashing lights are approaching behind her. She pulls over, assuming the car will pass her, not realising she’s the one being pulled over.

“Oh shit.” The police car stops across the way from her, pulled into a driveway.

Allison’s voice comes through muffled from the phone Lydia’s holding away from her ear. “—going on. Lyds? What were the sirens about?”

“I’ve been pulled over,” Lydia admits.

“What for,” Allison demands, cop voice making an appearance.

“I assume talking on the phone.”

“Lydia!”

“I know, I know,” Lydia rushes to say, “I forgot to enable my Bluetooth. I thought you were work and there was nowhere to pull over.”

“Babe, I think you’re just going to have to take the ticket,” Allison tells her.

Lydia doesn’t mind that much. It’s not like she can’t pay, and she knows she was driving illegally. Still, no-one _likes_ getting a ticket.

A deputy steps out of the police car. It’s the same man from the other day, the one she was going to ask Allison about.

“Well, I should probably hang up. If you want, I—”

“No, wait,” Lydia interrupts. “While I’ve got you on the phone, I was meaning to ask you about a new deputy at the station.”

“I’ve been away for a month,” Allison points out.

“And back at work four days already,” Lydia counters. Lydia watches the deputy get approached by a young boy, who he stops to talk to. Thank god. “He’s tall, broad shouldered, very kind, incredibly muscled, dark hair—”

“Derek Hale. I think, at least. The only other newbie was a woman, so—wait, how do you know he’s kind?”

“He pulled me over the other day for driving one handed.”

Allison laughs. “Well, you’re _definitely_ getting a ticket then.”

“Didn’t get one last time,” Lydia says absently, watching as the deputy, Derek Hale, nears her car.

Allison’s silent on the other end.

“Al?”

“Sorry, sorry, just picturing the beginning of this terrible porn I saw once. I hope it didn’t go down like that?”

“Okay, one, I’m flattered _and_ offended, and two, could you talk him out of giving me another one? Here he is.”

Lydia holds her phone out the window to Derek, who’s now arrived, having helped the boy chase down his dog, an event which Lydia has been watching with amusement while talking to Allison.

Derek stares down at her phone.

“It’s Deputy Argent,” Lydia waves the phone. “She wants to speak to you.”

Derek picks up Lydia’s phone like it’s an explosive, and holds it to his ear. He turns his back to her and Lydia takes the time to look him over. Derek’s on the phone less than a minute before he’s giving it back, looking both amused and confused.

Lydia accepts the phone and goes to talk to Allison.

“I hung up,” Derek says.

Lydia puts the phone down in the drink holder. “What did Allison say?”

“That I should give you two tickets.”

“Huh.” Lydia leans her arm out along the opened window.

“You were driving one handed and talking on your phone,” Derek says in a disappointed tone that sparks a gut reaction.

“Yes, I had noticed,” Lydia replies with sarcasm, riding the line between indolence and flirtation, aware on the one hand the Derek is an officer of the law—and a new one at that—and on that other hand, that he’s an attractive man near her own age.

“License please,” Derek says, and Lydia retrieves it for him without fuss.

She bites her lip while Derek writes out a ticket for her. Probably best not to do anything to add a third ticket. She takes the first slip and her license when he holds them out for her, then waits. Derek puts the notepad into his back pocket.

“No second ticket?”

“I told you it was a warning, not a ticket. I’m not changing my decision.”

Lydia hums. “I admire that.”

Derek nods at Lydia, then turns to leave.

“Hey. Derek.”

Derek looks over his shoulder and raises an eyebrow at the use of his first name.

“Argent?” He asks.

Lydia shrugs. “Who else?”

“Deputy Hale,” Derek corrects, then adds, with a bit of emotion. “I’m on duty.”

“Deputy Hale. I just wanted to say sorry.”

Derek turns back fully to Lydia. “What for?”

“For sassing you earlier.”

Derek smiles for a half-second before it disappears. “Sassing me?” He asks flatly, but Lydia can see his lips quirk at the corners.

“Which time,” he delivers like an insult and not a question.

Lydia laughs, surprised by the sly humour, and Derek not only smiles again, but laughs along. She watches in wonder as the action brings a new life to his features.

“Anyway,” Derek says, after abruptly stopping his laughter. “I should get back to patrol.”

“Okay,” Lydia says easily, still smiling.

“But, Ms. Martin—”

“Lydia.”

“Ms. Martin. I’m on duty.” It’s almost a friendly reminder; a joke.

Lydia rolls her eyes.

“Next time, keep both hands on the wheel.”

Derek walks away after giving Lydia a look of emphasised reprimand. Lydia waits until his car is clear of the street, then parks properly and calls Allison back, hoping to get some insider information on the state of Derek’s romantic life.

 

**Three**

Lydia fidgets in her seat, rubbing her back against the car seat to try and reposition her bra while she’s driving. There had been an incident with her washing machine, and also a lot of long shifts at work, and two separate birthday dinners for friends. Somewhere in the middle of all that, Lydia’s washing didn’t get done.

She’s down to her third last pair of clean underwear, and her least favourite bra. She’d forgotten why until she’d been wearing it for a few hours, after which the underwire went from being noticeable but not annoying, to digging into her skin and irritating it. She’s been hyper-focused at work trying to take her mind off it, but now that she’s in the car, not even listening to music at a loud volume and singing along can take away the annoyance of her bra.

“That’s it, I’m fucking taking you off.”

Lydia untucks her shirt from her skirt one-handed. The car doesn’t stay that straight but it stays on the right side of the road so she doesn’t care about that as much compared to how good it’s going to feel to have her bra off. With her shirt untucked, she goes for the clasp at the back. Undoing it is an immediate relief, and she awkwardly rubs her hand over the indents it’s left.

After that it gets trickier and more confusing. Trying to pull the straps down past her long sleeves is impossible with one hand. Luckily, she remembers she’s wearing her versatile bra and can just unclip the straps which she does. Then she unbuttons the top few buttons on her shirt and pulls the bra out.

Victorious, she throws the bra onto her dashboard and sighs out, closing her eyes for a second longer than she should.

She turns the music back on after she’d cut it off in her frustration earlier, which is why it isn’t until the car pulls up beside her that she notices, yep, that’s Deputy Hale again, asking her to pull over.

She does so without fuss, window down and wallet open, ready to retrieve her licence.

“Ms. Martin, this is—

Derek cuts off. Lydia looks up to see Derek’s mouth slightly open, and his cheeks somewhat flushed. His gaze is focussed on her dashboard.

Then Lydia remembers. Her bra is sitting there.

Lydia considers moving the bra, but now that he’s seen it, that seems pointless, so she simply takes out her license, and holds it out to Derek.

“Here’s my license,” she says, when Derek doesn’t move immediately to take it.

Derek blinks and looks down at it. “Right,” he says, grabbing it and clearing his throat.

He’s writing a ticket and not looking at her when he asks gruffly, “So, uh, have you… been somewhere?”

Normally, Lydia would lecture whatever cop was trying to pry into her personal affairs on the illegality of their actions, which would not only be ironic in this circumstance, but also, not the right fit for their dynamic, which feels almost friendly after the banter of their last meeting, and for the fact Lydia knows Derek has asked Allison about her (and that she’s done the same, and now knows more about Derek than other deputies she’s known twice as long).

So, Lydia feels fine to simply answer Derek’s question.

“Work,” she says simply.

Derek’s head comes up so fast Lydia’s worried about his neck. He looks between her and her bra.

“Work?” His voice pitches higher than normal.

“At the courthouse on High Street. Had a case with housing court,” Lydia expands. “There’s a whole story with my laundry and life and uncomfortable underwear, but I, uh, don’t think our relationship is quite there yet.”

“Oh.” Derek sighs out. He finishes filling in the ticket then gives it back to Lydia. “Which firm are you with then?”

It’s more personal questions, and normally in this circumstance Lydia wouldn’t engage with small talk. It’s Derek, though, and she senses he’s asking with legitimate interest and friendly intentions. She can’t resist the opportunity to answer.

“Simpson Watercress.”

He nods in recognition then leans down to her window and asks, “Do you know Danny Mahealani then?”

“Yeah, I know him.” Lydia is surprised Derek knows anyone at her firm, with how recently he moved into town. “He’s great. We went to high school together.”

“I haven’t seen him in years.”

“Oh, how do you know him?” Lydia asks with genuine interest.

Derek purses his lips before surprising Lydia again by saying, “He’s an ex.”

“Oh.” Lydia’s gut clenches at the new information, and she finds herself feeling suddenly dejected.

“I’m pansexual,” Derek answers the unspoken question.

Lydia’s never been great with people coming out to her. She’s not sure what to say. Thankfully Derek’s radio solves the problem for her.

“Promise me you’ll keep both hands on the wheel next time?” Derek asks after replying to the message.

“Promise.”

“And buy yourself more comfortable underwear.”

Lydia’s left gaping.

 

**Four**

It’s not a good day for Lydia. Work seems intent on screwing her over, several stupid little inconveniences piling up, and back to back meetings in the morning meaning she doesn’t get a proper lunch. She gets chastised by her boss for the half-day she took last week, and her backup files get corrupted and it takes IT almost two hours to retrieve them, during which Lydia has to fight not to burst into tears.

She saves those for her car trip home, taking the back way so no-one’s around, sobbing messily to get the tension out of her shoulders. She reaches into her bag when she’s on a quiet street to pull out her tissue packet, slowing down but keeping the car moving. She blows her nose while still driving.

Red and blue lights flash in her rear-view mirror. It’s _really_ not her day.

She tries to stop the flow of tears but she’s got too much stress to get rid of, that she continues to bawl as she pulls over and parks, winding down her window, and reaching with shaky hands to get her license from her bag.

“License and registration,” Deputy Hale asks, because of course it’s him. Of course.

“Give me a sec,” Lydia hiccups, drawing in shaky breathes. She can’t find her damn ID. “Sorry. I swear it’s in here. I just can’t—I can’t find it.”

“Ms. Martin?” Deputy Hale sounds concerned. “Are you all right?”

“Yes. No.” Lydia exhales and shakes her head. “It’s been a bad day.”

She looks out the window to Derek, who’s leaning down toward her window, expression filled with concern. Lydia wipes at her eyes and holds her breath to try and stop the tears.

“Wait here,” Derek says, then hurries back to his patrol car. He comes back with a travel thermos which he passes through the window to Lydia.

“What is it?”

“Green tea. I thought you might like it.”

Lydia bites her lip and stares up at Deputy Hale.

“I shouldn’t—This is your mug.”

“I have several,” he replies earnestly. “Got a lot from various family members when I told them I was becoming a deputy. They’re not that good at organising presents.”

It’s more of the same personal confessions Lydia heard from Derek last time they saw each other. Lydia likes it. Likes the little smile on his face talking about his family has brought out.

She feels a new rush of tears coming on and she struggles to get her seatbelt off, opening the door in a rush and throwing her arms around Derek, who’s surprise only lasts a moment before his arms come to rest lightly on her back.

Lydia hugs him until she’s calm enough to realise that it’s inappropriate for her to be doing so.

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” she says, pulling back. “It’s just, you’ve made my day, honestly.”

“Don’t mention it,” Derek says, looking away from Lydia.

“I got mascara on your uniform,” Lydia points out when she realises.

Derek looks down and presses his fingers over the marked spot. “Don’t worry,” he shrugs. “I’ve got plenty of these at home.”

“Let me pay for dry-cleaning or something, please?”

“Lydia, don’t worry.”

The use of her name stops her, and Lydia blinks at the deputy.

“You—okay. Okay.” She takes a deep breath and drops her shoulders on the exhale. “I won’t.”

“Good.” He smiles at her. “You feeling alright to drive now?”

Lydia nods at him, and pulls the mug she’s still holding against her chest, feeling it warm against her skin (though not as warm as Derek had been).

“I’ll see you around then. You can keep the mug. Oh, and next time,” Derek says, “keep two hands on the wheel.”

Lydia laughs for the first time today.

 

**Five**

Lydia’s driving around the streets of Beacon Hills aimlessly, eyes out for a certain patrol vehicle whose license plate she’d gotten from Allison in return for the promise of a Jason Bourne marathon.

She’s gone through an entire playlist on her Ipod already before she spots the car, parked by the side of the road with a portable speed camera.

Lydia smiles to herself and tries not to feel too Kristin Wiig as she winds her windows down, drives past the car, and lifts both hands off the wheel.

Derek levers himself off from where he’d been leaning against the front of the car holding the speed camera. He raises his arms at her in an exaggerated shrug, and shakes his head. Lydia does a u-turn on the deserted road and does it again, no hands on the wheel.

Derek tilts his head at her and Lydia waves.

She does another u-turn. Derek leans in through the open window of his car to start the lights up. He points obviously to her and gestures her in.

Lydia smiles and parks the car in front of Derek’s.

“Ms. Martin,” Derek says, with arms crossed over his chest. “What on earth are you doing?”

“Getting your attention. Did it work?” Lydia stops a few steps away from Derek and holds his gaze.

Derek keeps a stern look on his face, and Lydia watches for signs of a smile.

“You do remember me telling you to keep both hands _on_ the wheel, yes?”

Lydia nods and takes a step closer to Derek.

“And you are aware that you had no hands on the wheel just now?”

Another nod. Another step.

“Well, you’ve got my attention.”

“Good.”

“What did you want it for.”

“You should take me on a date.”

Derek’s eyes widen noticeably. Lydia smiles openly at him, and he clears his throat.

“Lydia, I, uh…” Derek shuffles and his stance goes from formal, to more relaxed. “I think we both know you’d be taking me on a date.”

Lydia’s heart flips.

“Well then,” she steps forward. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow night after your shift.”

“I didn’t say yes,” Derek states.

“But you said ‘Lydia’, and you’re on duty.”

Derek looks away and shakes his head. Lydia takes the opportunity to step up and kiss him on the cheek.

Derek startles and turns back to face her.

“You know this is the absolute strangest way anyone has asked me out.”

“I try to be original.”

Derek’s look softens, and he replies, “I don’t think there’s anyone else like you.”

Lydia’s cheeks heat. She looks away from Derek.

“Hey, Lydia.”

“Yes?”

“You’re not getting out of the ticket just because we’re going on a date tomorrow.”

Derek holds out a slip for her. Lydia narrows her eyes at him, but takes it. It’s worth it.

 

**\+ One  
**

Derek is in the driver’s seat, taking Lydia back to his place after their dinner date. Lydia’s playing soft music from her phone, and looking out the window at the streetlights.

Something warm lands on her hand and she looks down to see Derek’s hand wrapping over hers. She flips her hand over to lace their fingers together. Derek takes his eyes off the road briefly to smile at her. She returns it easily, leaning her head fall back against the head rest, feeling warm inside.

“Derek?” She lifts their entwined hands to kiss his knuckles.

Derek hums his acknowledgement.

“Have I ever told you…”

“Told me what.”

“Driving one handed is illegal.”

Derek rolls his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> Also posted on [tumblr](http://whatthehellisahoechlin.tumblr.com/tagged/my-fic)


End file.
